Splintered Reflections
by Whispering Winds
Summary: Harry Potter, consumed with grief and burdened with a fate too heavy to bear, forsakes his former inhibitions about using the darker magics and enters a world of greys. Ships: [HPGW][HP?][RWHG]
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

Drip… Drip… Drip…

A tall dark man cringed as each drop of crystalline water liberated itself from his hair to splash against the smooth stone floor below him.

He could not afford to be heard.

Encased in black, he seemed to melt into his dimly lit surroundings, and much to his distress, he was not alone inside the dingy cavern he had taken refuge in.

His pale face contorted into grimace of concentration as he strained his ears to detect the exact location of the muffled whispers he could hear coming from deeper within the bowels of the earth.

This was Death Eater country, being alone and an uninvited guest was almost always a bad thing.

A soft echo was made as the friction from his boot twisting across the grit that caked these floors - he hoped he had not been heard. Steeling his nerves, he broke into a quick soundless dash down a low hanging tunnel towards the space he now knew his hosts occupied.

It was dangerous to charge headfirst into battle with no concept of the opposing numbers but what could be deduced from the careful listening to of the echoes of far away voices. But he and danger got along just fine.

Entering into a seamless roll as he crossed the line that marked the end of the tunnel and the opening of a large antechamber housing no less than five Death Eaters, jets of red and green light sailed over his head.

Gracefully springing back up to his feet, with a long – but quick - swish of his wand three of the five lay sprawled across the ground, immobilised. Sensing the warmth emitted by the curse aimed toward him on the back of his neck, with a split second reaction, he dived to the right, rolling on his shoulder back up to his feet, and thrusting his arm back to release a responding jet of green light, in the general direction he knew the spell had come from; the ensuing thump of a lifeless body crumpling to floor alerted him to his aim being true.

Only one left now…

Straightening, the dark figure turned on his heal, wand lowered, to regard his last opponent trough steely cold, and critical, malachite eyes.

Even under his dark cloak and through his face mask, he was obviously no more than a boy, too young to bear the mark by far, too young in most people's eyes at least, but Harry Potter had learnt that Lord Voldemort - or Tom as he liked to call him – didn't believe in the concept of "too young."

It was almost pitiful to watch him wet his pants, but Harry could afford no pity for those marked in his line of work… heroism didn't allow it.

With a horizontal slash of his wand, Harry cut the boy down where he stood, and then cautiously made his way over to the Death Eater's two fallen comrades, checking for signs of life; Harry reaffirmed their deaths by snapping the two stunned cloaked bodies' necks.

Reaching under his robes, and into the inner lining, Harry withdrew what looked to be a flip-out mobile phone. But upon closer inspection, it was evident that where on a regular Muggle cell the screen would've been, there was nothing but an empty chasm that was for all intents and purposes, bottomless.

Reaching back into his robes again, from the same pouch, Harry withdrew a small pouch tightly sealed by a thin piece of string tied off at the top. With a gentle tug, the string came undone, and grabbing a pinch of the powder inside the pouch, Harry sprinkled it into the hole in time and space that was bizarrely situated where his cellular phone's screen should have been.

The hole responded with a flash of light, indicating that the device was ready for use.

Harry pressed a series of nine buttons in rapid succession, followed up by a verbal request for the desired Floo Outlet, "Auror Headquarters."

The TeleFloo was an ingenious invention, truly the Twins' best work, and also their death sentence. Voldemort couldn't afford not to cease their ceaseless stream of inventions, that were beginning to give the Ministry such an edge in the war.

Out of the hollow screen sprang a beautiful face he did not expect to see, made of dancing flames, and accompanying it, the silky and exceedingly sultry voice of Bellatrix Lestrange, "Why hello Harry."

* * *

Hopefully that was a Cliff-hanger…

R+R! .

1)Malachite is a famous and very popular semi-precious stone. It is named for the Greek word for "mallow", a green herb. Its banded light and dark green designs are one-of-a-kind, and give it a unique ornamental quality unlike that of any other stone. The light and dark green bands are so distinctive that malachite maybe one of the most easily recognized minerals by the general public. A popular design of ceramic ware which imitates this banding is named after the mineral malachite. It forms the banding from subtle changes in the oxidation states of the surrounding pore waters, but the exact mechanism is still not well understood.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter I

* * *

A handsome young man, of no more than 17 summers, with an unruly mop of raven hair and a pair of burning green eyes; eerily reminiscent of the curse that robbed him of both his parents, sat, curled in a defensive ball at the foot of his bed.

Clasped in his torn and bloody hands were the remnants of an antique mirror, now more frame than glass, which the despairing teen stared at blankly with dead eyes as a stream of silent tears cascaded down his face.

'I couldn't save either of them.'

A vague sense of time passing registered in the boy's mind as minutes turned to hours. How long it had been the boy wasn't sure when he was finally snapped out of his reverie by a shrill hoot and the tapping of an Owl's beak on the small window that ordained his cramped room.

The boy delicately put down the ruined mirror as he shakily stood up, and with some degree of effort forced his heavily protesting muscles to move for the first time in hours.

With a stubbornness that was more befitting a sentient being than an inanimate object the window futilely resisted the boy's attempts to open it. The window finally open, the snowy-white Owl gave an indignant hoot as she spread her wings and sailed gracefully through the air towards an obviously well used perch at the end of the boy's bed.

Reaching out the boy untied a parcel from the avion's leg, and flipped it over to reveal an official looking letter with his name neatly printed on it.

-Harry James Potter-

Tearing the letter open, two items were revealed, one a shimmering gold card, and the other a piece of lined parchment folded neatly in half.

'Definitely not Ron's work,' the teen quirked a small smile, looking odd in contrast to his tear stained face.

Written in long curvaceous type on the front of the gold card were the words

"You are formally invited to the wedding of Fleur Delacour and Billius Weasley."

Flipping the card open, something fell to the floor and bounced off the loose floorboard Harry kept his school supplies under, to skitter under his bed.

Groaning, Harry down on all fours extended his arm under his bed not quite able to reach the small token that he had so clumsily lost.

Finally, with one last – slightly more aggravated – thrust of his arm, Harry's fingers came into contact with the contents of the glossy card. Pulling it out, it was revealed to be a diamond shaped card (highly reminiscent of a Chocolate Frog's accompanying Famous Witches and Wizards Card) which had a small moving photo inlayed into it of Bill, and the soon to be Fleur Weasley arms around each other's shoulders grinning away merrily at him.

The scars that adorned Bill's face were still quite prominent, and Harry couldn't help but feel an irrational pang of guilt as he traced the lines with his thumb, and worked his other hand along the thin lightening bolt scar that so distinctly decorated his own forehead.

Carefully placing the card and its contents aside, Harry reached for the second part of his mail, absent mindedly flopping the sheet of parchment open, Ginny's script was instantly recognized by Harry, and he could almost hear her voice as he read.

_Hey there Harry,_

_Mum's saddled me with delivery duty, so I suppose you're lucky you get to have me explain how these cards work! That little card with the portraits of Bill and Phlegm is actually a Portkey, and will activate itself – on your touch – at 11:52am on the 11th of August (a day before the Wedding,) taking you to the Burrow._

_So you'd better not have lost it!_

Harry could just imagine Ginny's face inches below his, but somehow managing an intimidating glare all the same. A blush rose to his cheeks unbidden at the thought of how close he had actually come to losing the magically charmed piece of card.

_Hang in there Harry, it's only a few more days. _

On the next line, an 'I' stood clearly even above a scribble of ink. She had clearly thought better of using the word, and then again about not using it so many times that both the 'I' and the scribble were heavily indented. This did not go unnoticed by the young hero.

_We think about you all the time, and can't wait to see you._

_Love, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys._

Harry leaned back against the frame of his bed contemplatively, all thoughts of his earlier grievings gone as he let his mind wonder to and focus on the vibrant red haired girl of his dreams.

"Boy! Get down here now, one of your freaky friends is here!" the shrill shriek of Petunia Dursley shattered his for once peaceful thoughts.

A puzzled look crossed Harry's face as he wondered who on Earth could have come to visit him.

"Coming!" his voice rang out in reply.

* * *

There we go, a Prologue and a first chapter… I'm on a roll! Here's hoping I can follow it up with another chapter…

If anyone would like to beta, and or co-write with me on this, I'd be interested to hear from you.

My MSN address is auzerekose2002(at)msn(dot)com

R+R! .


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